


Grimm Is The Fairy Tale Of Me

by ladyheroines



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Non-Violent Character Death, over-use of the word "fairy tale"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 13:42:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1349482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyheroines/pseuds/ladyheroines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She never expected a fairy tale. She daydreamed of one, when she allowed herself to, but she knew that was not how the world worked, and she knew you shouldn't dwell on the impossible</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grimm Is The Fairy Tale Of Me

**Author's Note:**

> I have a headcannon that Allison loved fairy tales as a child, and I felt it would make sense with the way she was saying how it seemed right that the way she died was in the arms of her first love, because that is such a fairy tale thing, so I kind of wrote an entire fanfiction just to deal with how poorly that death scene was written.

Allison was raised in a tougher family then most. Looking back, there were many off things about her childhood. Things that should have tipped her off that her family wasn’t completely typical. Like maybe that all her relatives were hunting supernatural creatures.

Or something.

But there was one thing that was very typical for her. And that was fairy tales. Especially princess stories.

She loved them when she was younger. Especially Disney. She liked Disney best because most of the time, the princesses rescued themselves - and sometimes everyone else - just fine by themselves, and they got to have a prince in the end, too.

She had many favourites, and she could never pick one single one that was her favourite until much later in life when she dragged Lydia to the movies secretly to see a late showing of _Tangled_ , and discovered Rapunzel was a princess that she loved in much deeper, more relatable way than the others.

It wasn’t just princess stories, though. She loved all kinds of fairy tales. Princesses were just her favourites. It was something she was unashamed of, but never advertised.

She had a tough family. Tougher than she knew then, but a hard family none the less, and she didn’t want to be viewed as weak. Back then, it seemed like something that would make her seem lesser in the eyes of tougher people. It probably was, but later on in life, she grew to not care.

Fairy tales were a constant in her life, no matter what. She knew mostly the typical ones, but she enjoyed some folktales as well. She read books about enchanted forests and princesses and magic and dragons, and she dreamed of epic fantasies in her head as her eyes scrolled down the page, and then she would finish the books, close them, and as soon as she let the pages fall together, covers carefully protecting the paper, she would push them out of her mind. She was never one to live in a fantasy world, even as young as she was.

Still, late at night, or bored on long car trips, or sitting alone in her new bedroom full of boxes to distract herself from yet another move, she would dream about fairytales, with herself as the star. Maybe not a princess, maybe just a beggar, or maybe a fairytale come to life in the real world, with the beautiful prince to sweep her off her feet and the foe to overcome and grow stronger from.

She always wanted her life to be a fairytale.

 

\----

 

When she was nine years old, Kate came with her family on a month-long roadtrip. For the first day, Allison passed time by reading through a fantasy series called _the Enchanted Forest Chronicles_ , about princesses and princes and dragons and magic, where the princess is the hero of the story. When Kate had seen what she was reading, she had rolled her eyes and said she should read some real fairy tales, and Allison had argued this wasn’t fairy tales, just fantasy, which seemed to amuse Kate, but she still raised her eyebrow at the book.

When they stopped at a hotel for the night, Kate disappeared for a little while, only to return with a copy of _Grimm’s Fairy Tales_ from the local bookstore, and - after an argument with Allison’s parents about what was and wasn’t appropriate for nine year olds - gave it to Allison with a warning not to read it before bed.

Allison spent the next few days of the roadtrip reading the book avidly. At first, she had been shocked at the tales, at hearing stories she knew told so differently and changed so much, but the more she read, the more she enjoyed. A few nights later, Kate told her those were the original tales and Disney edited them to make them more appropriate for kids.

Allison grew to love the Grimm’s Fairy Tales, more so the older she became.

 

\----

 

Allison’s world stopped spinning for a moment when she met her father’s eyes. She thought it couldn’t be true, her mother couldn’t be dead, her mother was unbreakable and strong and ever-present, and she couldn’t be dead.

Looking back, she doesn’t remember much about that day after her father had wrapped his arms around her, after she had fallen into broken sobs.

That night, her tears long dried up, but still burning to come forward, Allison found herself thinking of how every fairy tale, every Disney movie, every princess story, seemed to include the death of a family member.

If her mother’s death was the cost of her fairytale, she didn’t want it anymore.

 

\----

 

She never thought her life would be a fairytale, or ever expected it to be. She hoped, dreamed, sometimes, when dared herself too of some fictional happy ending,, but she never expected anything. That wasn’t how life really worked, after all.. For a few moments, it seemed like maybe she had her prince when she met Scott, but even that fell apart, like everything else did for her. When everything about her fell apart, she honestly doesn’t know why she expected her and Scott to hold. Perhaps it was her actions clouded by her feelings, but she thinks it was the fairy tales.

She never expected a fairy tale, but she got one, for only a moment, and so she expected it to end like one. The fairy tales always seemed like everything lasted forever, like it really was happily ever after, but if that were true, then they wouldn’t all stop as soon as the villain is defeated. They would have a reason to keep going.

She and Scott couldn’t keep going.

Scott was her prince, she had already accepted it long ago, except now they weren’t together, and they really couldn’t be, even though they loved each other. Everything was to much to even be thinking about a relationship right now, but some part of her just knew that the prince would come back to the princess, eventually, when they were ready. They would part, but never leave, never not come together once more. Even though she couldn’t be with him right now, and maybe not even ever again, some part of her thought they were still destined for one another.

She blames the fairy tales.

 

\----

 

Her life _was_ a fairytale, in a sick, twisted way, she realized one day. But not the kind of fairytale with a princess and a prince and a white castle and vanquished foes.

Her life was a Grimm fairytale. It was a truth, and hardship, a lesson told through extravagant gestures. It was nothing less than harsh reality, and nothing more than to detailed in it’s gore to be anything but pure fiction.

She didn’t know how this happened. She came upon this realization on a Friday night, while Lydia was painting her toe nails a pastel pink for her - in a few minutes they were going to switch and she was going to do Lydia’s in a mint shade. It seemed an absurd thought, especially given the fact she was sat on her bedspread warning her best friend not to spill any of the colour on the sheets at the moment it came to her, but it felt so resonantly true inside her that she couldn’t question it its truth.

At every turn she had been presented a hardship, and they’re difficulty had steadily increased. Her biggest problem first her constant moving, and then figuring out where she fit into the world, and then _werewolves_ , and then finding her new place in her family, and then her mother’s death, and now even her best friend thought she was going insane.

She had a prince, he was taken away. She had found her place in her family, and now she couldn’t hold it, because now she couldn’t even draw her bowstring. And she felt she had only reached the middle of the story, and the worst was yet to come.

A Grimm fairy tale, but still a fairy tale. She smiled wryly to herself as Lydia asked her how she slept last night.

 

\----

 

Not every little girl owns a princess dress as a child. She didn’t. Not every little girl wants a tiara or crown. She did.

She had her copy of _Grimm’s Fairy Tales_ in her glove box as she pulled up to the old internment camp sight. She had been rereading it upon her realization, but due to the intensity of the events that had brought on her realization, she had not gotten much reading done since Barrow had escaped.

She thought of it as she stood from her car, slamming the door shut behind her, bow in hand. Today, she was a princess once more. Not from the Grimm Fairy Tales, but from a traditional one. She was going to save the day, save her friend, and her prince was even going to be there. Her prince who was no longer her royalty, but whose presence could help her fool herself into believing she was a princess to a classic tale, for a few minutes. For long enough to help.

She had to help Lydia. She had to wear her crown one more time, before she accepted her role as the punching bag of a Grimm tale..

Today could not have the dark twist the Grimm’s tales all did.

 

\----

 

Allison was winning, she was fighting, and she was winning, against the unbeatable, and forr a moment she was a warrior princess.

And then she wasn’t winning. She wasn’t even fighting.

She was dying.

 

\---

 

Scott was at her side. He was holding her tight to his chest, trying to help, trying to ease her pain.

Maybe it did hurt. But in her mind, it did not, so the pain signals just bounced back, unneeded. She didn’t need the pain, so she didn’t feel it.

She had won. She was killed, but she had won. She had killed one of them, she had hurt more, and that was more than anyone else had.

She was the princess, and she was the warrior, and she had paid the price for ignoring the Grimm title before her fairy tale, but that didn’t really matter, she got her last battle, like they always did, in all of the fairy tales.

Her life was a fairy tale. A real, fictional story. Everything from the start, to the finish - dying and wounded - in her first love's arms. And really, a fairy tale was all she had ever wanted.

 

\----

 

It’s funny how, when you’re dying, your brain tends to latch onto one thing. Her life didn’t flash before her eyes, all she saw was Scott, and she latched onto the solid thing before her, anchoring herself with it, telling him what she could, because this was her last chance, and she didn't want anything to go unsaid. She had more to say, to so many others, but Scott was here, before her and around her, holding her so close, so she told him what she couldn't stand to know she didn't say.

It was near the end, when she started to lose her grip on the world, when her mind started slipping to much to anchor herself to one thing, that her thoughts finally wandered. And she knew that was bad, that she shouldn’t be relieved she was no longer solid enough to focus anymore, but her dad came to mind, immediately. And she lurched forward, or tried to, persistently hanging on longer, trying to get a message for him across to Scott.

 

\----

_Tell him…_

_Tell him I’m his princess. Tell him to keep fighting, to keep strong, for me._

_Tell him he’s my knight, and it’s alright that I didn’t have him here, because I at least had you. I didn’t have my father, but someone else I love was here, my prince was here, so I was okay. Tell him that for me, okay?_

_Tell him not to feel guilty, tell him it was destined to be. It’s just the way the tale was written. Tell him it’s his story now. Tell him I couldn’t erase the author as the Brothers Grimm, but he’s always been better with the pen, since I focused solely on the sword. Tell him to buy some White-Out, maybe. It might work better than the little pink eraser I tried._

 

\----

  
“Tell him… You have to tell him…”

_"Allison!"_


End file.
